I Spent the Night with Slade
by AnnaRinzler
Summary: How far will one reporter go to get an interview with Jump City's greatest criminal mastermind?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans._

"Get back _freak_, I've got mace," Vanessa Gould snarled, backing up until she felt the alley's rough brick wall scratch her back.

The shorter man continued walking toward her, his brown trench coat dragging through the mud as he advanced upon Vanessa. She looked for a way out but found herself trapped by the alley's

"You've got mace, but I've got this," he said, pulling out a silver gun that winked in the moonlight as he swung it tauntingly in her face.

Vanessa's breath hitched and she froze with her hand tight around the container of pepper spray. She was so stupid—she should have sprayed him in the face the first chance she had.

"I don't have time for this. I'm looking for Slade," the young woman snapped, her voice quavering as she stalled for time.

He laughed—an ugly, guttural sound.

"Maybe I'm Slade, honey."

"Unlikely."

Vanessa flinched and looked upward, the blood draining from her face as she locked eyes with Slade himself, crouched catlike on the fire escape. His single orb narrowed to a slit.

"Get back or I'll kill her," Vanessa's captor said frantically, holding the gun to her head.

"Be my guest. She has the potential to become a great nuisance to me."

She glared at him angrily.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Slade replied smoothly, leaping off of the stairwell and delivering a crushing roundhouse kick to the man's head while shoving Vanessa out of the way.

She fell to the ground with a _thud _almost at the exact instant as her would-be attacker did. Opening her eyes, Vanessa stared at Slade's armored legs as he held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

"You dropped this?" He asked, holding out her silver voice recorder, no bigger than a matchbox.

Vanessa looked at it stupidly for a moment, mesmerized by the sound of his voice, before nodding.

"Yeah—yes, that's mine."

She reached out to take it with shaking fingers. They tingled when she brushed his cloth gloves.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"If you're sick on this uniform it'll be the last move you ever make."

"I've seen dead bodies before."

Slade silently turned around and started walking.

"Where are you going?" Vanessa asked, widening her stride to keep up with him as he left the dark alcove.

"Home. Hear the sirens?"

Nodding mutely, Vanessa listened to the faint wail of the police in the background.

"They're looking for you, aren't they?"

"You should stop crawling into dark alleyways."

She smiled sadly at him.

"I can't. I'm a reporter."

**Author's Note: Well, I suppose you can see where this story is going. This is just sort of a prologue-thing to introduce it. I'm looking for a BETA READER for this story if you're interested. I need a somewhat experienced writer with a couple things on who I can send the chapters to in advance for them to edit. (Since my poor beta Artemis is overworked working on "The Ties That Bind" and everything.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Coffee**

"GOULD!"

"Yes, _sir_!" She screeched, jumping out of the office chair and banging her knees on the cherry wood desk.

Vanessa patted her hair down and stood as her boss entered the room. She bit her lip nervously and eyed the messy pile of Starbucks containers that littered one corner of the small room.

"WHEN are you going to have that "amazing" new story ready for me?"

"Soon, Mr. Jameson, I promise," she babbled, her boss's large forehead furrowing more with every word, "I mean, it's going to take about three more days, if everything goes as planned."

"I don't have three days, Gould!" He shouted, waving his arms in the air for emphasis as his face turned red.

"I—I—could always cover the parade in the meantime"—

"No. No, no, NO. Hokey parades don't sell newspapers Gould. Do you know _what _sells newspapers?"

"My int"—

"YOUR INTERVIEWS!" He said, cutting her off and flinging an accusing finger at the wall.

She stared up at the five framed pictures and at her biggest accomplishments.

Control Freak. The Joker. Poison Ivy. Brother Blood. Harley Quinn.

Quinn and Ivy had been the easiest since they thought it would be "tons of fun" and agreed to be interviewed together. Since Quinn had done it, The Joker agreed to also—and without maiming/kidnapping Vanessa, a definite plus. Brother Blood was a megalomaniac and as a result warmed up quickly to the whole thing. (He had spent two hours detailing his infinite schemes of grandeur.) Control freak had a rather unpleasant odor and no social skills, but Vanessa had managed to coax enough out of him to write a full article—he mostly appealed to pimply male teenagers writing code in their basements.

But they sold a hell of a lot of papers.

"—Jump City Times founded on my sweat and the ideas of my father, J. Jonah Jameson, Gould, and now you're trying to tell me you need THREE DAYS to complete a simple assignment…"

"I'll have it done in two, sir," she said sharply, cutting off her boss's tirade mid-sentence. He blinked once at her.

"_That's_ why I gave you an office with a window, Gould," Jameson barked, "On Thursday I want to hold a newspaper in my hand with the headline "Vanessa Gould interviews…_whoever _you're going to do this time."

"Of course. It'll be the best one I've ever done, Mr. Jameson."

"It'd better be," he answered, slamming the door so hard that the windows rattled.

Vanessa sighed unhappily. She had a crick in her neck from dozing on her desk for the past hour and a half, a desperate attempt to catch up on much-needed sleep. The night before, the young reporter had stayed up two hours too late googling the word "Slade" and formulating questions to ask him _if _she ever got luck and he showed up again. She had downed two venti lattes from Starbucks and neither of them were doing much good at all.

A _ping _on her computer made Vanessa swivel around to face it and she groaned, burying her head in her hands.

**Gould: Jimmy's shooting the parade. Pictures in ten minutes—write up a page 5 article.**

**Have interview on my desk by Thursday.**

"Perfect," she grumbled, "Simply _perfect." _

By six p.m. Vanessa was ready to strangle anyone who got in her way. She fumbled with her tan trench coat, an accessory so stylish that it did absolutely _nothing _to protect her against the cold, bitter wind. Her laptop was tucked snugly in a large black bag that hung over one shoulder.

"I'm outta here," she muttered under her breath, rushing out of the glass door and into the city.

Immediately a wave of sound assaulted her senses: traffic, screaming children, honking horns, and police sirens. Over the past three years Vanessa had learned to phase it out, keep a firm grip around a can of mace, and plant a steely look on her features until she made it to her car.

"Time to go home," she sighed tiredly, sliding into the front seat of her white Lexus, a gift from her grandparents when she moved to Jump City for her work.

Twilight was falling when she made it out of the city, leaving all of the noise and traffic behind her. Vanessa lived in the suburbs. The commute to work was about 20 minutes, which was not a bad trade for an actual _house _and some peace and quiet that came along with the towering oak trees. She parked her car in the garage and smiled upon seeing the furry lump asleep on the rug.

"C'mon, Morgan," Vanessa cooed to the one animal she loved in the world, "Time for dinner."

The cat didn't budge so she picked her up, a difficult feat since Morgan had just been classified as "obese" by her veterinarian and wasn't doing anything to help stay in her arms.

"Open up," she called to the door, kicking it lightly with one foot.

"Password, please," a synthesized female voice responded pleasantly, reminding Vanessa that she had upgraded her security system.

Vanessa muttered it under her breath and walked into her living room, black cat in tow. She heard the November wind whistling outside as the door automatically shut itself and shivered, hugging Morgan closer. There was always something empty and lonely about her house when Vanessa first walked in the door every evening, something that was aided a bit by turning on all the lights, cooking dinner, and playing classical music throughout the house.

She had her routine down like clockwork: Feed the cat, feed herself, watch the news for fifteen minutes, and then soak in a steaming, _hot _bath. Vanessa felt slightly disappointed that there was nothing on the news about _Slade, _her new pet project, a sensation that was quickly replaced by a slightly panicked feeling in her stomach: she would _never _get that new story done.

The panicked feeling followed her all the way into her bathroom and all the way into her bath, which was _supposed _to be relaxing—at least, that's what the label on her Infinity bath said.

"_What if I never see him again?" _Vanessa thought, closing her eyes and sinking down into the water, _"If I don't, I'll NEVER be able to get another interview in two days. Jameson's going to kill me, I just know it."_

She opened her eyes to find that Morgan had slid in through a crack in the door, and was now making herself at home on the pile of Vanessa's work clothes.

"No, Morgan, those are my _good_ clothes," she moaned, watching as her fat cat plopped down right in the middle of them.

"Fine," Vanessa grumbled, adjusting her hair so that it wouldn't trail in the hot water, "See if you get any catnip tonight."

Morgan's ears perked up suddenly and her tail twitched, exactly the way it did when she stalked insects on the front lawn. She stiffened and looked at the door, making Vanessa feel quite uneasy.

"What is it?" She whispered.

Morgan didn't answer. Moving faster than her owner thought possible, she leaped off the clothes and streaked out the door.

Silence.

She scowled when she heard Morgan purring just outside the door. Stupid cat—she probably wanted to rub up against the wall or something. _Finally _Vanessa closed her eyes with the express intent of luxuriating for a little longer in the water before her skin wrinkled.

"Maybe I should just put you in the bath with me tomorrow," Vanessa grumbled to the plus-sized cat, tapping her fingers on the marble sides of the bathtub.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer."

Vanessa opened her eyes to find Slade standing five feet away, holding her traitorous, purring cat with one arm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wine**

"What do you want?" Vanessa whispered, a tiny twinge of fear in the back of her mind.

He didn't say anything, opting instead to slide gracefully onto the marble bench in front of her bathtub. Morgan, oblivious to any impending danger, was purring like a motorboat as she rubbed against Slade's armor.

"Among other things . . . I wanted to speak to you."

Vanessa couldn't think over her pounding heart. Her fingers tightened on the sides of the tub as she stared at Slade. His eye slid lower and her faced heated up in response.

"Slade," Vanessa growled, putting a hand over her chest even though the only thing visible above water was her collarbone, "Now's _not_ exactly a good time for an interview."

"This is a one-time offer," Slade said smoothly.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to my house?"

"Now is a good time for _me_."

"With all due respect, you seem like more of a pervert with every passing second."

"Despite tarnishing my otherwise sterling reputation, I merely wanted to get you in a position to weigh your options."

"Options?" Vanessa asked, raising one eyebrow.

The way she saw it, she didn't have many options. The young reporter's gaze flitted longingly to her red Blackberry, lying on the bench beside Slade. If Vanessa lunged for it, she could—_no, _she realized. Slade could surely snap her neck before she even made it out of the tub.

"If you're looking for a possible means of escape, it's best _not_ to stare at it_."_

She didn't reply but sank lower into the bath and looked away from him.

"_AIDS! Aids aids aids aids aids AIDS…"_

Vanessa flinched as her boss's designated _Team America_ ring tone blared from the Blackberry. Slade tauntingly held it out in front of her face.

"Think quickly, Vanessa…"

'_What am I going to do? I'm too young to die . . . but maybe I won't. Slade might be just screwing with me . . . and I __**do**__ need this interview otherwise I'll be demoted faster than I can blink . . . true the Feds are going to grill me about this for months, maybe even try to sue me again . . . but this is the interview of the century! I need it!'_

"Mr. Jameson," she babbled, swiping the phone from Slade, who let go of it amicably as she did so, and spilling out some bathwater in the process. "Sorry I didn't answer sooner sir, I—yes, I covered the p—no, I haven't but—yes sir, I'm about to—No, I have an interview to do, sir. I'm just about to—of course, it'll sell tons. Bye, Mr. Jameson."

"Can I get dressed now?" She asked Slade, a bit more crossly than intended. Her instinct saw that it would be in her best interest to remain polite.

"Be my guest."

Slade made no move to get up. The two continued staring at each other until Morgan gave one last purr and jumped off of him. The cat looked pointedly at Vanessa and walked out of the room.

"I have to feed my cat again. She's hungry. May I _please _get dressed? I'm not going to call the cops, if that's what you're worried about."

"Very well."

He walked out of the room without a sound and closed the door. Taking a deep breath, the young reporter scrambled out of the bathtub and wrapped a fluffy terrycloth towel around herself. She paused in front of the mirror, knowing that soon her pale face would be under speculation. The brown eyes that greeted her looked nervous and unsettled—their owner certainly was. For good measure she ran a brush quickly through her thick brown hair. It was straight by the grace of God and a killer blowout from her stylist; the natural state of her hair was curly and hit a few inches above the small of her back.

"What to ask…what to ask," Vanessa muttered under her breath, wrapping herself in the robe that hung on the back of the doorknob.

She briefly pondered asking about Robin—was it true that he and Slade had teamed up for a short time? But no, that might just tick him off; might be a touchy subject. What about that chronoton detonator that he supposedly had in the works? Yeah, she would just ask general questions. Stuff that he wouldn't mind answering.

She walked down the hallway and grabbed her sleek metal voice recorder, off of the table that held her purse and umbrella, sliding the device into the front pocket of the robe while looking for Slade.

"Slade?"

Vanessa walked into her living room and frowned. He wasn't there and—

"_God!" _She gasped, whirling around when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Slade was tall, almost a full head taller than she was—and Vanessa was a tall girl. She looked up at him and knew that he could sense her apprehension.

The _Joker _didn't scare her as much as Slade did.

"Are you—are you going to grant me an interview?"

"Perhaps."

The word lingered in the air as he walked around the spacious room, decorated in warm shades of red and gold. Morgan jumped up on a couch and Slade sat beside her, crossing his legs and looking extremely out of place.

"Morgan, stop bothering him," Vanessa scolded, watching as she jumped in Slade's lap.

He shrugged and placed the cat lightly on the floor. When Vanessa sat down, she only got a disinterested glace from her _own pet._

"So Slade, is it—"

"Vanessa _Gould, _isn't it?"

"Yes," she said warily.

"Your father is Jay Gould . . . the Second, if I'm not mistaken."

Vanessa felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"I know what you're thinking, Slade, but we're not related to—"

He gave her a patronizing laugh in response.

"Your name is _Gould, _your cat's name is _Morgan, _the password to your home is _Rockefeller, _and the last boy you had a relationship with was Daniel _Carnegie. _You're not doing such a good job of covering it up as you think."

She shook her head and Vanessa felt her pulse skyrocket.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not connected with them anymore. I have a life here, by myself. I got this _myself."_

"So your inheritance had nothing to do with it. I suppose ten million dollars materialized out of thin air," Slade replied, sounding slightly amused.

"I work _hard. _I got myself a full ride to college, and then got _myself _this journalism job," Vanessa replied defensively, "I can't help having money."

"Of course you can't," Slade replied smugly, "Vanessa, you should"—

Just then, something in one of his pockets started beeping. He quickly pulled out a black reproduction of a Titan communicator and flipped open the top.

"I have to leave."

"_Why?" _Vanessa asked, a little more petulantly than she intended.

He glanced up at her and got up off the couch, offering his hand to her. She took it and he helped her get up with what seemed like no effort. Slade quickly headed to the front door and walked outside. Vanessa followed, shivering the whole way.

"You can see Titan's Tower from the back of your house, correct?"

"Yes," she replied, feeling the wind whistle through her robe, "If you go a bit behind the house…"

She trailed off and jogged to keep up with Slade, who melted into the darkness and walked quickly behind her house. Vanessa stumbled through the small patch of trees, heading toward the C-shaped cove that Titans Tower was built in the middle of. Vanessa looked where he was pointing, out into the cove, and audibly gasped at what she saw.

"Slade, how did you—why did you—did you _do this?"_

"Do me a favor and give this to your Uncle Bruce tomorrow, will you?"

Slade slid what felt like a flash drive into her hand. Vanessa stuffed it in her pocket before fumbling for her Blackberry and speed-dialing Jameson.

"I need a photographer at _my _house _right now," _she stammered when he answered; "Titans Tower is on _fire_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Family**

"Kitchen's closed," Vanessa said gloomily to the three men hunched over her round kitchen table, "What have we got left to do?"

Peter's curly brown head remained close to his Macbook. Vince, Jump City Times' lead photographer, poked him in the arm. Vince momentarily paused in his frenzied typing.

"We've got three usable pictures. Twenty seconds of film. If we're lucky we can sell the footage to Jump City News and earn the Times five grand, and that's only if we're _lucky."_

Everyone at the table groaned. They didn't have a full story on the Titans, and with three (slightly dark) pictures and a measly twenty seconds of film Jameson would probably chew his crew to pulp for not capturing anything better. Vanessa felt a flurry of guilty butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Peter and Vince had almost killed themselves to get a decent picture, and Nathan hadn't gotten enough film to make a decent profit for Jameson. Most of it, she felt, was completely her fault. Vanessa had told the crew that she was jogging around the cove and saw the fire in Titans Tower—none of them had hesitated to leap up at 10:30 p.m. and rush to get to the explosion. Vanessa had since changed into dirty jeans and a large "Jump City Rock Climbing" t-shirt that engulfed her slender frame. The men with her had been sluggish and slow since 12a.m., even though Vanessa had pumped enough coffee into them to energize a small herd of elephants.

"It's three in the morning," Nathan croaked, suddenly, "Just sell the damn footage."

Vanessa shot him a look for swearing but he was already staring blankly at Vince's computer. It gave a gentle _ping _and the Macintosh apple turned red, letting them know that the transition had been successful.

"Now out of my house," she yawned, "I don't stay up this late on _regular _Fridays."

The boys sighed and shuffled their papers, stumbling bleary-eyed toward the front door and then to their beaten-up press van.

"You guys need a new car!" Vanessa called into the chilly air.

"Tell me about it!" Vince yelled back, slamming the door.

She bit her lip and turned away, sliding one hand into the pocket of her jeans and fingering Slade's flash drive. _"Give this to your Uncle Bruce…" _What was that supposed to mean? Was it a bomb? Did he want to kill her uncle because he was rich? Vanessa didn't think so. Slade didn't strike her as a communistic, liberal-minded radical who would blow up the wealthy. She thought about trying the drive in her own computer, but that was probably a really bad idea, knowing Slade. The young reporter was ticked that she had to travel up to Wayne Manor Saturday. True, it meant that she would get to see her uncle, but that was a two-hour drive there, and two more hours back.

"Kitty," Vanessa said tiredly to Morgan.

She stumbled into her bedroom and saw a large fuzzy ball on her pillow. Even _Morgan _was asleep. Apparently she had tired herself out yowling at the bedroom door when Vanessa shut her in. But otherwise, Morgan would have clawed everyone's eyes out, since she was predisposed to hate everyone but her owner.

"And _Slade," _she said aloud, "Still don't know why you like him, by the way."

Yawning again and sinking into the deliciously soft bed, Vanessa decided that it would be in her best interest to snooze for _just a couple _of minutes, and then get up and call her uncle. She glanced at her Blackberry lying on the nightstand, and then sank down onto the pillows and closed her eyes.

"_**HARDER BETTER FASTER STRONGER…"**_

"Ahh!" Vanessa gasped, fumbling with her Blackberry and finally accepting the call, "Hello?"

"_Vanessa, this is Alfred. So sorry to call at such an early hour."_

"It's fine," she mumbled, "Is there a problem?"

"_No problem, but Bruce has a rather unusual request…he needs you at the Lodge this morning."_

"The Lodge?"

She groaned. Her uncle's hunting lodge was three hours away as opposed to the two it would take to get to Wayne Manor.

"_I'm en route as we speak."_

"Alfred, I don't have anything decent to wear."

"_There is clothing for you in the limousine."_

"Thank God," she sighed, "How long until you get here?"

"_Twenty minutes."_

Vanessa bit back a string of curses and struggled to sit up in the dark room.

"Thanks Alfred. I'll be outside by then."

"_See you soon."_

"Up, Morgan," she whispered, turning on the touch lamp by her bed and glancing at the clock. It read 5:50a.m. She had managed to catch less than three hours of sleep. Fantastic. Vanessa knew that when she didn't get at least seven hours of sleep, she was one of the crankiest people on the face of the planet, and she really didn't want her uncle seeing that side of her. He was one of the few people she looked up to and she hated annoying or otherwise inconveniencing him. Vanessa had fallen asleep in her jeans and t-shirt so she slid on the pair of old tennis shoes sitting by her bed and looked around for Morgan. She was usually asleep on a pillow when Vanessa woke up, but she was currently rubbing up against the door and purring. Her owner started.

"Slade?"

He didn't answer. Obviously. Vanessa immediately felt stupid for acting so paranoid.

"Come on kitty," she grumbled, pocketing her Blackberry and Slade's flash drive as she picked up Morgan, "We're going for a ride."

She slept on the way to the lodge, murmuring a sleepy "Hello" to Alfred before wilting in the backseat to take a nap. Morgan would have to find a space to curl up on the floor.

"_Vanessa, we're almost there."_

"Five more _minutes," _she groaned.

"_I'm afraid not."_

Alfred's voice was tinny through the speaker beside her ear and Vanessa muttered various curses before slowly sitting up. Morgan, who had been curled up on her feet, gave her owner a snarky hiss before jumping down to the floor.

"Yeah, yeah," Vanessa grumbled as she brushed her hair, "At least you don't have to change clothes."

She rifled through the Bergdorf shopping bags that Alfred had brought and pulled out a cotton Versace dress that was a little too sweet for her taste, but it was a tad more presentable than her current attire. A pair of dark pink heels was included in the bag. They matched the sash on the dress and the whole ensemble was _not _something that Vanessa would have picked for herself, right down to the (matching!) raspberry Urban Decay lipstick. But it would do. The limo passed the security gate and five minutes later, rolled up to a stop in front of the Lodge. It was really more of a mansion than a grubby hunting lodge, but it had started out that way. Bruce had built the whole thing up from scratch into a two-story, eight bedroom sanctuary. This vacation home was nicer than her _real _home.

After pulling into the circular driveway Alfred opened the door of the limo and swiftly removed Morgan, passing her along to a black-clad staff member.

"Be nice," Vanessa whispered to her cat, smiling before taking Alfred's proffered hand.

He did a quick scan of her appearance to make sure she looked presentable and Vanessa held her breath. Alfred gave her a shallow nod and she let the air out of her lungs with relief. She was anxious to see Bruce again and ask him _why _in the world Slade would want him to have the flash drive she now clutched in her hand. Alfred opened the towering wood doors and ushered Vanessa inside. She breathed in the familiar smell of hardwood and pine needles and walked inside to see her Uncle standing at the base of the stairs with his arms folded.

"Uncle Bruce!"

"Vanessa, welcome," he said warmly, laying one hand on her shoulder, "I'm glad you could make it."

"Thank you," she replied, "And I wanted to ask you about this. It's a flash drive and"—

Movement at top of the stairs caught her eye and she trailed off as he descended and made his way toward them.

"This is Commander Wilson," her Uncle said, gesturing toward the black-clad man standing beside him, "He'll be staying with us for a period of time while we attend to some business. This is my niece, Vanessa Gould."

The white-haired man was _smirking _at her, his gaze taking its leisurely time wandering over her body as Alfred gestured to Bruce and the two bent over a piece of paperwork they'd just gotten. She shifted uneasily. He may be a commanding officer or something, but that didn't mean Vanessa trusted him right away. Wilson stuck out his hand and she had no choice but to take it, wincing as he used his tight grip to pull her in close.

"Well, don't you look _adorable," _he taunted, his voice a low whisper Bruce couldn't hear.

A flush heated up her face and she jerked away from him, making a vague noise of disgust. "Commander Wilson" let her go with a smirk. She may not have recognized him in plain clothes, but that _voice _was enough to make Vanessa realize that the person who had been leering at her was Slade himself. If he noticed her outfit, then it must be _really _hokey—but the old moneyed set wasn't exactly known for taking fashion risks, and apparently the person who picked her dress wasn't either. Instead of the stuffy, preppy clothes of those around him, Slade wore solid black, which contrasted sharply with his white hair and made him fade into the background when he stood still. A handgun was tucked into its holster at his hip, but that really wasn't what concerned her. His very presence made her uneasy. Letting Slade in the house was like allowing a snake to sleep in your bed. She decided to try again when Alfred and Bruce turned their attention back to Slade and Vanessa.

"Uncle _Bruce," _she began, staring at the black patch where Slade's right eye should be,_ "_This is"—

"An excellent time for brunch," her Uncle said briskly, "Would you like to join us?"

Vanessa bristled angrily when she realized her Uncle was inviting _her _to join _them. _It should be the other way around—or preferably, _not _include _Commander Wilson _at all. She couldn't fathom why her uncle would let Slade into the Manor at all, but she would have to go along with it—at least for now. And if Bruce wasn't aware of who he was dealing with then if she revealed Slade…he 'd probably beat her to a pulp, or worse.

"Of course I would," she replied stiffly.

Vanessa shivered as she followed Bruce and Slade into the breakfast room.

"Are you alright, Vanessa?" Alfred asked, suddenly appearing by her elbow.

"I'll be fine," she mumbled, "I'm just…a little cold."

**Author's Note: I'm sooo sorry I haven't updated this in so long! Is anyone still reading? If you are I just want you to know I'm working on the next chapter right now! Please read, review, and offer constructive criticism! Thanks!**


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